I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness

"It's not a phase, uncle Elrond, this is who I am!"

                                      ❝ balin, at your service !!! ❞

Boromir has girl cooties now.

Who said it was a girl?

Nah. Every time I burn my hand in the kitchen, I go “MAN UP, AT LEAST IT’S NOT A FUNERAL PYRE!”

//That made me laugh so hard.

Mun: It’s so cold outside.

Muse:

 I guess if your muse is a son of Gondor, the mun can’t be a sissy. 

300 Fᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀs Fᴏʟʟᴏᴡ Fᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ

Frankly, I do not, in the slightest, know what you are all doing here. I created this blog less than two weeks ago, and frankly, with the craziness of real life, I’ve not even been here half the time. And some people keep bandering about the word ‘quality’, and let me tell you a thing. First of all, bandering isn’t even a word. That’s how quality we are. We make up words. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have, I am discovering as I reread, that I have a terrible recollection of the books. And yet here you all are. I have kept putting off creating a follow forever so I could get to know people better. But, I figure I owe you all a little something, at least.

adunada | booksmarting | bowbearer | bowofthegaladhrim | cleverindeed | edhelernil | eziluk | fxrtyfive | gilxath | greyistari | hxlbytla | lipbiiter | miiserably | morguliis | motherofasgard | ofbrandybuck | ofdaggers | ofneedleswords | pcrian | pheriannath | pilininge | pippinxtook | rhomru | riddarii | shieldarmed | sonofgloiin | stonevoiced | tallxfairxbold | therangerofithilien | thrandxuilion | unseenmockingjay | valinorenna | vanyavende | warhornofgondor | wisebyexperience 

                                                                          Frodo

                                         your coming to us is as the footsteps of doom!                                                  you bring great evil here, ringbearer.

Eight walkers, not nine walked now the paths of Lórien and even in the light of day their faces looked weary and crossed by heavy pain. Galadriel watched them from her mirror, as they made one step after the other crossing from Nanduhirion close to Nimrodel, close to the border. None entered Lothlórien against her will, be they friend or foe. She watched them, every one in turn and called them, seeing how they looked startled around, as if a ghost would be near. Last she called the Ringbearer and saw him seeking the source of her call. Soon, very soon she will speak with him. But for now her observation was interrupted by Haldir and his troops who respected as always their duty.

                Galadriel decided to end here her watch and come later as now their minds will be filled with other thoughts and she will not be able to speak in the same way with them. Hours passed and the glow of Isil replaced the fire of Anar on the sky and the stars of Varda shined. But they seemed cold this night and shone with wintery glimmers. Here nights were more cherished than days, for they brought the stars. At the top of her talan, the highest one centered in the middle of the city, Galadriel has always been able to observe them, every night and meditate upon. With soundless moves, the lady of light made her way through Caras Galadhon. All bowed their heads and every song seemed sweeter at her passing. The mirror. She had to gaze into the mirror. The sounds of the Celúrlin fountain remained behind her as she made her way in the lowest parts of the city, where her garden was. She was greeted with a nod by Losdirith the guardian of her gardens. ever dutiful but gave him no attention. Her heart was heavy for darkness crept in Lothlórien. Closer step by step to her. Taking the cup, she filled it impatient and poured into the basin, waiting to watch upon its reflection, knowing something has happened.

                                            Shadow and flame

Faramir was distracted by the voice he'd heard in his head, as well as the expression of alarm in the Ring-bearer's face that instinctive senses of being watched came a split second late. But as soon as he realised that they were being surrounded, he notched an arrow on his bow, only to find three more aimed at his face. He'd heard, from his left, that Legolas had done the same swiftly, but the whole Fellowship, was in fact, outnumbered. He studied the Elves that ambushed them, most of them supporting silver or blond hair as opposed to dark tresses that were more common in Imladris. These folk reminded him of Legolas, and though he had become very fond of the only Elf in their Fellowship, the thought also made him uneasy. Dúnedain had always been friendly with the Elves of Noldorin stock, but the Woodelves were known to be unfriendly to outsiders. Yet there was nothing to be done now save abide by Aragorn's cautious looks, lower his bow and follow wherever the Elves were taking them.

As the sun fell and twilight rose all around them, Faramir half-listened to Aragorn's hasty conversation with the one he'd called Haldir. He sat down with the rest of the Fellowship, finally giving into grief and fatigue, while still trying to hear what they were saying. But all he'd heard was a plea from Aragorn ("Boe ammen veriad lîn. Andelu i ven!") which confirmed his suspicions that they were not wanted here.

After a rest that felt too long and too short at the same time, it seemed Aragorn managed to convince the Elves to let them pass. Faramir got up as swiftly as he could, helping Merry and Pippin on their feet right afterwards. He knew the Hobbits must be even more tired than he, thus he squeezed their shoulders reassuringly in hope that it would give them strength.

As they were led deeper and deeper into the forest, Faramir kept on eye on Frodo, who had taken the habit to walk slightly outside of the Fellowship. It worried him, for he perceived that the Ring-bearer was doing so in purpose, as if to physically and emotionally distance himself from them. Faramir knew not whether Frodo did this out of fear of them, or to protect them. He himself would follow Frodo into Mordor if he asked, but long-buried foresight and wisdom in his heart was telling him it was not meant to be

So no harm done? Frerin could lower his hands already? That came quick and was a bit unusual in his opinion, but yet for safety’s sake he kept them up a little while longer. Though he had to admit, the man in front of him was right. Times had changed and travelling around wasn’t very pleasant anymore compared to the time when he had started. He had noticed the men from the East and had avoided them as well as he could, they never seemed like a very talk active bunch to him and Frerin had never felt very eager to find out. The further away they were from him, the better. Orc’s he could handle if he wasn’t to heavily outnumbered, but men in the East? Them he knew nothing about to defend himself from.

“You’re right.” Frerin agreed, the more things they agreed on the better he supposed, so with that statement Frerin slowly lowered his hands and let them rest by his side. Feeling slightly calmer in front of the man now, but he wouldn’t deny that he wanted to have Grimm by his side. So much for a trustworthy companion. Frerin would trust Grimm with his life on most occasions, on days when the horse was skittish like today, he wouldn’t. Unfortunately he had found out to late and had hoped that Grimm wouldn’t be skittish due to his curiosity. Usually those two never held hands with each other.

Normally Faramir would have smiled at the obvious nervousness in the dwarf's posture and on his face, and would have tried to offer soothing words. But it seemed to him that the events and news of this past week had taken its toll on him, and he no longer remembered how to smile. Perhaps he was becoming a typical grim ranger at last. He did not blame or scorn his accidental companion for looking uneasy still. He didn't doubt that he was hardly fair to look upon with a deep scowl and travel-worn clothes adorning him. With effort, he willed his scowl to go away and adopted a blank expression, as well as lowering his good to warm his nearly-soaked hair with the fire.

He noted that the dwarf still hadn't come near the fire despite his invitation. Dwarves were physically hardier than men, yet he expected the night's chill would soon start effecting him as well. Despite the isolationism of rangers in general, Faramir wasn't a type of person who would wish ill on anyone save the servants of Darkness, so he repeated his invitation with a gesture of his hand towards the fire.

"I meant no slight to your abilities of travelling, Master Dwarf," he replied gruffly, taking off his gloves and settling them near the cheerful flames. "But even the most experienced travellers need be cautious in these times, I believe. For these lands are not the same as they were a year ago." He would say no more on it, not until he was sure that the dwarf had no association with the very foul things he'd been hunting all his adult life. 'Twas rarer to see servants of the Enemy among Dwarves than it was among Men, true. Yet it was still not unheard of. "I don't doubt your horse will return to you soon. They are very loyal creatures." His mouth twitched briefly, "No doubt my appearance spooked him."